Bad Movie Night
Sorority House Massacre 2
By Socrates Crenshaw and Orlando W. Harris
Jul 1, 2003 - 11:12:00 PM

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This month we continue our quest with some magic worthy of Merlin himself. With our pockets burning from a free movie rental coupon, we went off in search of the most heralded movie yet, and could not find it. 

Not being French, we marched on and were hard pressed between Sorority House Massacre II and Jack Frost 2. Having to decide between a mutant killer snowman and breasts, breasts won out.

Sorority House Massacre, or SHM2, has set a new standard for 'Bad Movie Night' with a nearly even kill-to-full pair of exposed breasts ratio that we don't expect will be easily topped. Better yet, no more fifteen minutes of actual plotting going on, allowing even more time for death and breasts.

Adding to the charm was actually seeing the blood packet nozzles squirting on the walls after a couple deaths, giving it that nice high school film class feel.
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Photo Taken By Rachelle Sadler

We start out with five girls (their names don't even matter), moving into their new sorority house. They got it for cheap because a couple years ago some guy snapped and killed his entire family with a power drill before the creepy neighbor finished him off.

They get nice and liquored up and find an Ouija board and decide, "Hey, let's try and channel that psycho so that he can return and mangle us! Yeah!!" The Ouija starts moving, and the girls' IQ's are dropping. The Ouija flies into the fireplace and explodes.

The girls decide they should get naked and shower or dress for bed. The quality of breast ranges from fake to real fake, to niiice. The scene's now set.
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Photo Taken By Rachelle Sadler

Who will win between a maniacal spirit and five sorority girls in the buff? We had our favorites, but it was a toss up until the bitter end (not too much sarcasm).

Here's the deal: nine deaths, spread out with drilling, stabbing, meat hooking (a la the I Know What You Did movies), choking and good ol' American death by excessive buck shot. Eight pairs of breasts, shown throughout the latter two thirds.

Zero character development, barely any plot-- just the way we like it. Best death goes to the creepy neighbor who dies no less than three times. All that and a stripper named Satanica McVixen (we hear wedding bells) to boot.

We give this movie three kegs (four if you fast forward to about thirty minutes in) out of five. See it tonight.



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